Pippin and the Palantir
by Sunhawk
Summary: Pippin tells of his experience with the palantir and the effects it had on him. EDITED: Hopefully the story now contains paragraph breaks :)


A/N Many thanks to Mizz Marvel for beta'ing-this story would be far, far less than it is if not for her! I do not own the characters in this story, and I make no profit from it. Shirebound-thank you for pointing out the non-paragraphing, and for making it through the story anyway! Hopefully this will be better :-  
  
Pippin and the Palantir  
  
I saw him, and he saw me. Sauron ripped my mind open, and in that instant, more than in Moria, more than when the Orcs captured us, I stopped being the overly-inquisitive tween, stopped being Pippin, young and in need of protection. I became Peregrin.  
  
Mind you, most of the time I still am Pippin; a healing that was long in coming. It was not until we had returned home, when I'd healed of the physical hurts and we'd dealt with the ruffians; only then could the deeper hurts be dealt with. Frodo was there, and he understood, and helped, but it was mostly Merry who drew me out.  
  
My Meriadoc-since I'd been born, almost, our families had regarded us as almost being one hobbit instead of two, that we were two sides of a coin. Ah, it gladdened my heart to see Merry living up to his name again, learning wisdom from his wound, instead of being broken by it. He was the one who made tea late at night when we woke from nightmares, the one who could tease me into going out, the one who became known as "the Magnificent" because every time he entered a room, it glowed.  
  
He was quieter, at home. We both were, because we could be. We could understand-to a point-what the other had gone through, and could help each other, at least somewhat.  
  
Merry understood Peregrin as well as he'd understood Pippin, and loved him as well. My father was thrilled that I had come back to him responsible, steady and clear-headed, ready to take on the duties of the Heir the Thainship. For awhile, I was happy too; I had pleased my father, Merry understood, I could set out to work at something and it would come out perfectly as expected. I was so proud, because my father was proud. But I could not laugh in the same way, had lost the sense of mischief that had guided nearly every action when I was Pippin. My father may not have minded, and I could pretend I did not miss the bright-eyed child I had been, but Merry saw the wounds where others pretended there were none.  
  
Forgive me, I tend to wander from the topic. Frodo would often complain of it, when I narrated my story to him for his book. As I was saying, Merry was the one to give me the tools to heal.  
  
He brought back my curiosity. You see, I'm not sure why, but when we returned, I was afraid to ask questions. For all my young life, I had always wanted to know things. I wasn't in complete jest when I told Gandalf how I wanted to know everything in Middle Earth and Over-Heaven--I truly was curious, and would have listened in wonder if he had told me everything I'd asked. But when I came home, and could remember what troubles my unbounded, untempered curiosity had caused, something changed inside me. I could only observe, never actively ask or touch or prod, or find out.  
  
Merry noticed this right away, Eru bless him, and set about to change it. He would constantly call me over when he was reading something, and would often discuss herbs with me, or the bits of Elvish language we had learned. If we went out riding, he would lead us to such lovely places, or to a clearing where a tree seemed to grow out of the rock, or to waterfalls. I do not know if it was the need to always follow the lead of my older cousin, or if he brought me to such wonders that I couldn't be afraid, or if I trusted him to never lead me into danger, but I began to ask again. I still recall, will always recall, how he looked when I pointed to a plant and asked why it had the name it did.  
  
After that, things became easier. My Merry was there, and I hope I helped him as well; but that is his tale, and you'd have to ask him to get the right of it. Frodo had the Havens, and Sam had Rosie, but Crickhollow was the salve we could place on the wounds no one else could see.  
  
I saw him, and he saw me. And Sauron made me grow into Peregrin, to fight him for love of my cousins, for love of the rest of the Fellowship, for the dream of a land free from evil. And he made Pippin disappear, for a little while-or perhaps I did that myself. War is no place for a young hobbit, and I was young, too young. And so, I grew up, when I needed to.  
  
I am Peregrin, but I am also still Pippin. And sometimes I have to wonder if I would have ever become Peregrin, without the palantir. 


End file.
